Heat
by SecondTry
Summary: So I was inspired and wrote a third part :) Note: Rating change for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

The shack (if you could even call it that) was heaven sent.

At least that's what Jemma Simmons thought attempting to haul a socking wet S.H.E.I.D. Agent towards the only dark thing on the white landscape.

Despite the multiple layers of clothes they are both wearing to combat the cold, Jemma could feel Ward shivering uncontrollable. Although if she had to guess she'd say he was trying his hardest to stop himself, Ward was a confirmed control freak after all.

"Come on, cowboy. Its not much further." She tried for cheerful, but even she could hear the quiver in her voice.

It takes forever, stumbling steps and a wobble or two or ten later, but eventually they find themselves standing in front wooden door. Jemma awkwardly props Ward beside the door, hoping the building didn't collapse with the added weight. The shack itself was only slightly bigger than one of those old fashioned out houses that people used to use as bathrooms. There were no windows.

She briefly wondered the why of the shack or how it had survived the weather, but put it out of her mind just as quickly as the thought entered her head. Ward was her main priority. She'd reflect on the mystery of the shack later.

Reaching out toward the warped door, her gloved fingers about to touch it when Ward suddenly jerked forward, startlingly her and grabbed her wrist.

"Boobytrap," he gasped out through chattering teeth. "Could be..."

"Yes, yes, it could be," she admitted, nodding her head almost manically. "But its a risk I'm willing to take. We need to get you out of this cold and heat you up. Hypothermia will start setting in soon if it hadn't already and I need to assess you for any other injuries." Jemma knows that his got at least two knife wound, one on his stomach and the other along his thigh. It was amazing he'd even made it this far, but then it as a testament to kind of strength Ward at his disposal. He was far to stubborn to die.

Ward is looking at her with that mission orientated, blank face that said he was not happy with this situation.

At all!

"Grant, please?" He was always saving her, protecting her, after all. She wanted to return the favour. The plane incident and all those times on the field where his protected both herself and Fitz with no regard for his own life.

And now.

Now, he'd saved Jemma again.

Twice.

Once from the men who'd given him the knife wounds. They'd began crossing an iced over lake that could not be avoided, when they were set upon by five assailants. She hypothesized that they were after her alien samples that she'd just removed from a recently found cave.

Ward was kicking his customary ass, when the ice had began cracking under the strain of the combat. Jemma had tried to stay out of the way knowing she'd only be a hindrance to him. She slowly made her way towards the promise of solid ground, knowing and trusting him to catch up with her. She remembered him shouting her name, the sound of cracking ice, then hands shoved her forward, hard enough to propel her the last few feet. She'd landed with a thud, the compact snow feeling more like cement against her hands and face. She'd shoved herself up on to her knees and twisted sharply to try and catch a glimpse of Ward, but there was no sign of anyone.

Just eerie silence, floating ice and no Ward.

That was the second time he'd saved her.

And that was only today.

"Ward," she whispered and then more loudly, "Ward. Ward!" She scrambled towards the edge, careful not to step out on the remaining ice and searched the water for any signs of her rescuer.

"Ward!" Her scream was swallowed by the wind and she suddenly felt lost and hopeless.

He couldn't be dead.

He was Grant Ward.

Grant, bloody, Ward!

That's when he broke the surface, his hands flailing as he gasped in oxygen.

"Grant!" Jemma forgot about the danger of the ice and rushed forward to reach out for him.

"Grant, come on." He weakly swam toward her and she grabbed his outstretched hands and hauled him out of the water. She'd admit that he did most of the hard work.

"We need to get you warm," she told him, rubbing at his face and hair, mainly to reassure herself that he was actually alive and that this wasn't a figment of her imagination.

It had started to snow and she knew she needed to get Ward somewhere warm, if not even dry would do. She'd remembered the shack they'd passed earlier and now here they stood.

"Please, Grant?" She repeated again. "Let me save you for once."

Something around his eyes softened; just a little bit.

He was Grant Ward after all.

He insisted on opening the door.

It was stiff around the edges, ice holding the door hostage, but despite his ravished state, Ward managed to get it open. Jemma handed him the mini-lantern she'd pulled from her pack, Ward's having to let go of his in the water or risk drowning.

"It looks okay to me," Jemma ventured, worry gnawing at her insides. She was very close to just shoving Ward inside so she could start doctoring him.

He threw her look over his shoulder and carefully took a step inside. He swung the lantern around examining every nook and corner.  
It was just a bare, square room.

"Ward enough," Jemma finally snapped. "Get inside and take off your clothes."


	2. Chapter 2

Jemma felt a flush creep up her neck, bleeding into her cheeks. She choose to ignore it, instead focusing on the irritation that she felt toward Ward. He was being purposely obtuse, granted it was all part of his training; drilled into his head from the day he'd been recruited. Still, he was hindering his own recovery time. The sooner she could tend to him, the sooner they'd get out of this ice box.

When he attempted to make a second pass with the lantern, Jemma lost all semblance of patience. "Agent Ward, forgive me." When he glanced quizzically back at her, she took the opportunity to shove at his back and hustled him inside. She was fully aware that he allowed her to do this, if he had wanted he could have become a brick wall, well beyond her ability to budge.

Jemma shut the door and avoided looking at him as she unzipped her jacket. It wasn't much warmer in here then it was outside, but it was dry and she could look after him in here. She turned to find him shivering in the middle of the room, his teeth chattering so hard she was surprised that his head wasn't vibrating. The light from the lantern wasn't very strong so she couldn't make out his features, but she would bet that his face was set in stone, one eyebrow lifted in derision.

"Ward, I'm sorry if there were any other way of quickly raising your temperature, believe me I would be using it right now, but this is our only option."

If she were back in the lab on the plane, Fitz would have some gadget named something ridiculous like the 'Hot Pocket', but they weren't on plane. If they were, they wouldn't be in this situation.

Jemma set her backpack down and pulled her bomber jacket off. She knelt and rummaged through the contents finding the rescue beacon, the mini-portable heater she'd need to dry his clothes, and the blanket she'd packed just in case. She'd wait until Ward was feeling better to set the beacon off. There could be more attackers out there waiting to ambush them. The snow storm would keep them at bay for now and it looked like it was going to be a lengthy one. It would also prevent May from flying in to get them.

Shaking her head slightly, she pushed the air release button on the vacuüm packed thermal blanket she'd packed just in case. She honestly never thought that she'd actually need the blanket. She switched on the heater and watched it slowly brighten, a gentle heat beginning to exude from it. She tossed out the blanket on the floor, thinking they could lie on it and still have enough left over to cover them.

"The blanket is big enough for the two of us," she said aloud, voicing her suggestion to Ward. As she spoke Jemma looked up, sighing in exasperation when she discovered that he still hadn't moved. "I would think you would be more cooperative considering that I'm trying to save your life." She stamped toward him, all business. In truth it was the only way she'd be able to get through the next couple of hours; pretend it was science experiment and she would be able to control her body's reactions. Hopefully. She jerked at the zipper of his jacket and he didn't try to stop which she found odd. Trying to gauge what was going on with him she looked up into his face, but it was unreadable. Stoic.

Jemma smiled at him nervously, despite her trepidation and yanked at the zipper. The blasted thing was stuck fast. She let out a frustrated grunt after her third attempt. "You could help."

Ward lifted a shaking hand and placed it on top of hers; Jemma just about resisted the shudder that his ice cold hand inspired. _And it's entirely has to do with the cold and not my physical reaction to being touched by him in any way, shape or form, _she firmly told herself. With their combined strength they managed to unstick the tricky mechanism and free him from the heavy material. The thermal gear he was wearing inside was sopping wet, the cold only having frozen his bomber jacket and pants in the time it had taken them to get here.

Now for the rest of his clothes, but first she needed to look at his wounds. She lifted up his t-shirt, without thought, searching for the wound on his stomach. She found it quickly, just above his hip bone. Thankfully it was only a graze and Jemma breathed out a sigh of relief. She just had to check the one on his thigh. Again, she acted before she could think, her hand going to his belt and beginning to unbuckle it before a choked laugh snapped her out of her trance. She looked up to find a bemused smile gracing Ward's face. It was the only part of him she could see, as his height allowed a certain amount of shadow to shroud his expression. He grabbed her wrist and she tried to snatch it back as mortification made her heart stutter and her entire body go hot and cold. "I, I, I just… The wound…. On your thigh….." She continued gibbering out her explanation, practically hyperventilating. _Why didn't I pack a brown paper bag?_

"Simmons," Ward said, trying to make through her babbling. "Simmons! Simmons! Jemma, stop." He took her face in his hands, surprising her and effectively shocking her into shutting up. His hands were so big, his fingers ended up in her hair and behind her ear, little tingles shooting down her spine as he accidentally tugged at her hair trying to catch her attention. She let out a little squeak and bit down on her lip. The shadows prevented her from seeing the way his eyes zeroed in on the way she was nervously gnawing at her bottom lip, his pupils dilating as something stirred deep within him. As it was, Jemma waited, unsure of how he was going to react.

"It's ok, Jemma," he placated her, his fingers stroking her along the back of her ears. If she had ever allowed herself to think that Ward would ever see her in any other way then as someone to protect, like a little girl, she probably would have melted into a puddle right then and there. Alas, she was pretty sure he and Skye were something not yet realised. "I know you just wanted to check the cut on my thigh. Let me just get rid of these clothes and you can play doctor with me." Jemma flushed again, her entire body heating at the prospect of a naked Ward and the fact that she'd been about to undress him without his permission. Also, the doctor reference did not help her poor hypersensitive nerves any. It was wrong and she felt horrible for feeling like this when they were in a life and death situation. Especially when he was being so nice and trying to make her feel like she hadn't been about to molest him.

This is what always confused her about Ward. He could be cocky, hard, stubborn, cold and distant to the point of making one think that he cared nothing for you, but then he did things like that. He comforted, jumped out of planes, joked around and consistently protected the people around him. The people he cared about. He just did in such minute degrees that one would have to be constantly observing him to pick up on it. He was a good man, a man of honor, with an ingrained sense of duty that ran so deep that Jemma was sure he wouldn't know how to be any other way.

Ward started undressing, his movements stiff and slow. Whatever energy he had draining away as the adrenaline that had carried him through the worst of it seeped away leaving in a more precarious state. She needed to check him out and get him under that blanket as soon as humanly possible. "I don't mean to rush, but I am extremely concerned about your future health and would like to offer my help in that." She waved her hand up and down his body, indicating that she would help undress him rather than say it out loud. They'd already established that she was more than willing to do her part if she could look after him.

Jemma didn't expect him to say yes, so when he nodded his acquiesce it took her a moment to react. She moved forward, reminding herself to not think too much about what she was doing and replaced his hands with her own. She pushed up his heavy thermal at his sides, her fingers grazing against his gradually exposed flesh. _Don't think! Don't think! Don't think!_ She helped him pull his arms and head out, his skin turning to goosepimples as it was exposed to the cold air. His undershirt was next to go and finally all that was left was the combat pants.

Jemma firmly kept her eyes planted on his face.

"Ah, well, Agent Ward, should I? Would it be inappropriate if I helped you, you know?" She was unsure how to broach the subject of his pants removal. She grimaced nervously and tried to remember the business/biochemist Jemma who could deal with circumstances like this with a modicum of decorum. Alas, she seemed to be well beyond reach, having abandoned the situation entirely and leaving tense/uneasy/frantic Jemma in her place. _And it has nothing to do with a half-naked Ward! It does not! _

Ward gave her one of those half smiles and took pity on her despite his obvious fatigue. "Just the belt buckle and the button. I can take care of the rest."

Jemma obliged, her eyes sliding downward. She took a deep breath and told herself not to dally any longer. For the umpteenth time, she told herself not to think.

She just did.

Jemma stepped back and picked up her own discarded jacket. She held it up in front of her, using it to shield Ward from her view while he rid himself of his remaining clothes and also her red sweaty face. _Who needs heaters when embarrassment will suffice in increasing one's body temperature? _ "Just get under the blanket when you're done and I'll be right along."

It took a little longer then she expected and she had to resist the urge to drop the jacket to see if he was okay. Eventually she heard a shuffle and then, "Simmons, I'm decent."

Choking back a laugh that is all panic, she drops the jacket and roughly pulls off her own thermal to reveal the purple sleeveless tank she has on underneath. When she starts undoing her own version of 'combat' pants, Ward makes a noise like his being strangled.

"Jemma, I know skin-to-skin is best, but you don't have to-" His teeth were chattering again and he shivered ever so slightly. She had a brief thought about being jealous of the control he had over his body, but didn't want to leave him time to argue with her, so she just shoved down her pants revealing a modest pair of boy shorts and scrambled underneath the blanket as fast as she could. Partially because of the cold and partially because Ward was looking at her in a way that made her skin tighten. She choose to ignore that particular sensation like she'd chosen to ignore every unprofessional feeling she'd harbored towards a certain cocky field agent since the day he jumped out of a plane for her. She remained sitting for the moment wanting to examine the other knife wound.

Before he can open his mouth to speak further, she ordered him to show her his leg.

"It's fine," he protests tiredly. "Another flesh wound."

"I'd rather see for myself." It's not that she doesn't trust him. His seen enough cuts over his time in S.H.I.E.L.D. to write a guide book, but she'd just feel better if she saw the evidence for herself; it was the scientist in her. With a wary sigh and a stink eye for good measure, he surprises her yet again, by turning on his side and throwing his injured leg over her knees. His skin was freezing against her own and she resisted shuddering. She also didn't think about the fact that he was completely naked.

"Okay Princess, there you go." Narrowing her eyes at his use of 'Princess' she nevertheless pulled the blanket down just enough to reveal a section of his thigh. It was indeed a flesh wound like he'd said, but now that she'd seen it she felt better. Nodding in acceptance she pulled the blanket back up and scooted down so that she was lying down. Her body reacted before her mind and she found herself turning to cuddle into Ward. It was automatic and what flabbergasted Jemma was that Ward seemed to take no notice. Although the whole reason she was under the blanket with him was to get up close and personal, but only for medical reasons of course. He pulled her closer, tucking his head under her chin, her legs twined with his and she rubbed her hands up and down his back.

And there was what scared Jemma half to death.

As a scientist she was constantly scrutinizing and analysing. She never just did, she always thought and then maybe, carried through. With Ward it was completely different; she reacted physically to him as well as emotionally and intellectually. And sometimes that physicality took her over and she did things like trying to undo his belt or cuddling him without thought.

At least now she had a genuine reason for her responses.

She was trying to keep him from getting hypothermia.

Everything else could wait for later.

Ward's hand slid along her waist and up the back of her tank, his hand like ice along her spine. She arched slightly as the unexpected touch and the inch of space that had been between their chests was now non-existent. There was still some space between their lower halves, considering his lack of underwear and Jemma had to remind herself that this was to heat him up, not her.

"Jemma?" He mumbled sleepily, her fingers running lightly through his hair, lulling him into a semi-conscious state. "Make me a sandwich when we're back on the Bus."


	3. Chapter 3

Ward woke before Simmons; truth be told he hadn't let himself enter REM sleep, but merely rested his eyes, listening intently for any hint of their attackers. He'd be damned if he let them get the drop on them again. Especially, when he and Simmons were in such a compromising position.

There was also the more pressing matter of his biological response to being so close to a female. Although, he would have to admit that it had more to do with the particular female he found himself wrapped around. While he remembered drifting off with her fingers threading through his hair, they'd reversed positions. Her head was now tucked against his chest. The biochemist was sound asleep, her breathing deep, her breath caressing his chest. His hand was still beneath her top, her skin soft under his fingertips. Her hand was wrapped around his waist, dangerously close to entering unwanted territory. Unwanted, in that he wasn't sure how Simmons would react if she woke to find herself sleep groping his ass and he wasn't sure how he'd react either. His leg was between hers and if she were to wake now then she'd feel how attracted he was to her.

Ward wasn't to worried about her figuring him out. When it came to feelings and relationships, Jemma was just as oblivious and perplexed by the whole thing as he was. It was a wonder he had even realized it himself. He was usually obtuse when it came to emotions, mostly out of choice, but as a specialist he had started to put things together, but Simmons, being Simmons, would just attribute it to science, blush and talk until she could rationalize his bodies currant response and any of her own. _Thank fuck for that_, he thought. As long as she didn't acknowledge what going on, then he could ignore it too. Not that he knew how Simmons actually felt about him. He knew they were friends of a sort. Somewhere over the last few years, she'd wormed her way past his defenses and he had no idea how she done it.

He couldn't figure her out and that annoyed the crap out of him. She was the same with everyone. Sweet, friendly, polite (for the most part) and she tried. She tried to relate to people, even when the emotions and reactions around her made absolutely no sense she went out of her to understand. Ward knew that it wasn't a lack of empathy on her part. Her brain was just wired to work differently, thinking with her head more so then her heart. Emotions were murky, inexpiable, prone to change, irrational and could make people crazy. Simmons needed reasons, she needed to know the who, what, when, why, where. A lot of the time emotions didn't allow for that so she preferred to not let them cloud her judgement. As for himself, he just plain liked to keep his turned off as much as possible.

He was frustrated with himself over whatever the hell was going on with the two of them. He could handle it just fine if it weren't for the inane compulsion he had to seek her out. Not to mention the rage that engulfed him at the thought of her in danger. No matter how many times he told himself that he was going to take a step back and keep things professional, something like this happened and he found his hard won control flying out the window. That pissed him off to no end and he couldn't even hold it against her. If he could blame her, then it would a-hell-of-a-lot easier to stay away from her.

He shouldn't even have let her get into the sleeping back with him. He'd had a weak moment when she'd started undressing in front of him, his mental facilities waving goodbye to any good sense he possessed.

But he needed to stay away from her.

Ward, despite his credentials, was nothing but a glorified killer.

He was forged in a pit of rage and despair; he didn't want to drag anyone, especially Simmons, into his damaged psychy.

She shifted in her sleep, pulling him abruptly from his thoughts when her movement caused her too brush up against a quickly hardening appendage. The accidental brush of her lips on his chest didn't help matters and he tightly closed his eyes against the sensations invading his body.

He needed to think.

Quickly.

However, the blood rushing downward was not conducive to any strategist, especially when the thoughts of a naked Simmons and all the dirty, naughty things he wanted to do her flashed before his eyes. He pried his eyes open and bit down on his lip, hard, hoping that the pain would distract him and it did. She moved again, her leg sliding down from his long enough for him to turn his back to her. He stilled hoping, praying, that he hadn't woken her with his abrupt change of position and was rewarded when she snuggled into his back, her head resting between his shoulder blades, the hand that had been around his waist now resting on his stomach.

Ward sighed in relief, but almost choked when on his next breath, when Simmons ran her hand up and down his stomach. He was sure she only meant it as a soothing gesture, but his mind was a dark pit. He was immediately assaulted with imagines of her hand moving further downward and taking his... He grabbed at her hand with his own and dragged it upward so that it rested against his chest. He laced his fingers through hers and took a deep breath.

He needed to control himself.

He needed to switch off.

He needed to shut down.

Jemma Simmons was too innocent for him. He felt like he was contaminating her by his mere presence alone.

He was stained; marked by blood, pain and death.

Even now, he still felt the effects of the Berserker Staff, trying to pull under.

He needed to stay away from her, even if he had to be ruthless about it.

**One Month Later.**

Jemma Simmons woke shivering. Despite the number of blankets she was currently wrapped in, she was freezing. Her breath fogged the air when she sighed heavily. While on the last mission, the team had encountered a bit of an air attack, nothing that May couldn't handle, but some damage had been done to the plane's heating system. They were currently grounded in Russia during the winter of all times and Fitz was currently offsite with Skye and May doing getting parts to fix the system, but due to a snow storm they were stuck in Moscow until it cleared.

Normally she wouldn't mind the cold all that much. She'd get a few blankets and make a nest for herself. But the cold now served as a reminder of the last time Ward had looked at her. He'd been avoiding her since there time in the shack, and when he couldn't, it was like she wasn't even there. He stared through her and answered any of her questions with a robotic tone.

When she'd woken in the shack, she'd been alone in the sleeping bag. Ward was gone, the beacon to, so she assumed he'd gone out to call in the Cavalierly. She'd gotten dressed quickly and sat in front of the diminishing potable heater. She sat there, for what she estimated was fifteen minutes, before she really started to let her imagination run wild. What if the men who'd attacked them came back? But then why take Ward and not her? Where was he? Was he hurt?

She was on the verge of going to look for him when he stepped into the shack, his face tense and stoic. "Bus is here. Let's go."

That was it.

That was the last time he'd looked at her or spoken to her unless he absolutely had to.

The Giant Butt-head!

Jemma shook her head and tried to force herself to stop thinking about it. What did it matter anymore? She'd tried to reach out to him a few times, only to be rebuffed or ignored. Skye and Fitz said he wasn't much better with them, but she'd seen him crack a small smile for both of them on one or two occasions, not that she'd been watching him, because she hadn't. She had just scientifically noted that he didn't look through Skye and Fitz as if they didn't exist. He respected Coulson and May to much to do something like that to them, therefore whatever was bugging him was related to her.

And she knew she'd done nothing wrong, so she wasn't about to ask him what the hell his problem was. No, she was just as stubborn as he was and she was not going to allow him to mess with her like this.

Jemma shivered again and decided to go get more blankets. They were in the utility press past the kitchen and as she emerged for her buck the thought of a nice cup of tea to warm her stuck in her head. She wondered into the kitchen and after checking for water, flicked the switch on the kettle. She went to get retrieve the extra blankets while the kettle boiled. When she got to the kitchen, she was surprised to see a severely under-dressed Ward sitting on the counter opposite the kettle, a half drank bottle, of what appeared to be Scotch, dangling from his hand. He was only wearing a pair of draw-string pants and a t-shirt with no sock or shoes. The scotch was the only thing keeping him warm. His eyes were glassy as he stared at her, but his face was still a plain mask, nothing showing. She only paused for a nano-second, before she choose to just ignore him and make her tea. He was not chasing her away, the jackass. She set the blankets down on the end of the counter, furthest away from Ward and turned her back on him. Luckily everything she needed was in the presses above the now steaming kettle. She wouldn't have to look at him as she worked.

That didn't mean she couldn't feel his eyes scrutinizing her, like he could tell what she was thinking if he stared long and hard enough. Her shoulders were up around her ears and her spine was rigid, by the time she'd almost finished. She felt like she'd just sat the hardest exam of her life, one that she had never studied for. She needed to get out of there before she cracked in half. She was contemplating just forgetting about the honey, but then she remembered she wasn't going to be chased away by him.

Jemma opened the press on her right above her head and stepped back to try and find the honey. Because of her height everyone knew to leave it on the bottom shelf where she could reach it, but someone had put it up on the top shelf. She knew, even on her tippy-toes, she wouldn't be able to reach, but she tried anyway, all to aware of Ward and his God damn staring.

Why he wouldn't leave was beyond her and it was exhausting work trying to figure out other peoples' emotions, never mind her own. She was tired, she wanted her tea and she wanted to crawl back into her bed, before her teeth started chattering.

"So you're ignoring me now?" Ward's voice almost startled her, but she managed to just about keep her cool. She put her hand on the counter for leverage and tried again to reach the honey. He chuckled, but it didn't sound happy. She heard him jump down from the counter and assumed he was leaving, her shoulder relaxing slightly, only to tense up all over again when he pressed himself against her back, trapping her between his body and the counter. "I could get that for you," he breathed against her ear, sending tingles shooting down her spine. Her stomach clenched and she swallowed down the small moan that threatened to emerge from her throat at the feel of his muscled body dwarfing hers.

No this was not happening. Not after the way he'd been treating her, not after he'd basically acted like she was a nothing, a nobody to him, like he couldn't care less about her. It hurt so much and she refused to face why, because if she did, she knew that no amount of rationalizing or science would ever fix her. She would be broken and it wasn't fair that he held that much power over her.

The anger that spread through her veins at his changeable behavior was a welcome feelings as she felt it settle in her bones. She was not going to let him play with her. She was not a lab rat.

She elbowed him in the ribs, shocking even herself and twisted around to face him. He was winded and surprised that much she could tell, but he recovered swiftly trapping her before she could escape. She wasn't going anywhere though, not until she'd roared her fill at him. She may be nice, but she wasn't a pushover. "Don't you dare! You giant ass. What the hell is wrong with you? You act like I don't exist for a month and now this? Was that alcohol drugged? Have you had a personality transplant? Are you a clone? An alien? Loki? Where's the butt-head whose been treating me like shit?"

For some reason, Ward was smiling at her, his lips lifted at the corners, his eyes roaming her face like a man starved. "I've missed looking at you."

"What the bloody hell, Ward?" Her British accent was more pronounced when she was angry and she was so mad she was shaking. "You missed my face? What's that supposed to mean? Why have you been acting like I tried to poison you? I did nothing wrong and you've been treating me like - "

Ward kissed her mid-rant, his hands digging into her waist as he lifted her on to the counter. She responded immediately, her tounge meeting his, as if she had expected this to happen all along. She grabbed at his t-shirt and pulled him between her legs, cursing the lairs of clothes she was wearing. Ward tugged at her hair with one hand, while pressing her closer with a hand on the small of her back his fingers, slipping underneath the waistband of her pajamas. Jemma gasped into his mouth, but couldn't shake her anger. She needed time to think and if Ward continued kissing like nothing else in the world existed, she knew she'd soon lose control of herself. She gently dragged her nails along his scalp, as she bit down on his lower lip hard enough to hurt. He groaned low in his throat and pulled back. She shoved at his chest, jumped down and ducked under his arm trying to evade the torrent of emotions that were about to descend on her if she let him kiss her again. He grabbed her hand before she could get to far and pulled her back into his chest.

She didn't try to struggle, just asked him why.

"I'm no good for you Jemma, but I'll do anything to get to forgive me" he whispered against her neck, his arms securing her to him, one around her torso and the other around her waist. "This month has been hell, one I know I inflicted on both of us. But lying in my bunk tonight, the cold air biting at me, all I could think about was you. I wanted you beside me. When we were in that shack, all I could think about is how much I wanted to be inside you." She shivered in anticipation, the thought being so intimate with him as terrifying as it was exciting. "I wanted to touch you and taste you so bad. You have no idea how hard it has been to stay away from you; how much I hate myself for the way I've treated you. I don't want to taint you. I'm damaged goods." Jemma closed her eyes, her head tilting to the side as he rained open mouthed kisses along her jaw and neck. "You deserve way better then me. Someone like Fitz."

Jemma's eyes popped upon and she pulled at Ward's hands until he let her go. She could hear the self-loathing in Ward's tone and she did not like one bit. She spun on her heel and wagged her finger at a sheepish looking Specialist. "Now you listen here Grant Ward," she ordered, using her best strict teacher voice, "first of all I will decide who is or isn't good enough for me. Second, I want you to promise me that instead of shutting off your emotions and acting like a huge douche that you will talk to me to me in the future no matter what its about and I'll do the same. Cutting me off the way you did hurt and I don't want to have to go through that again. Promise me?"

He nodded rapidly, "I promise."

"Thirdly, I was this close," she pinched her thumb and forefinger together, "to poisoning you and withholding the antidote until you told me what demon had possessed you so thanks for not letting it come to that." Ward's eyes widened, before he smiled at her affectionately. He pulled at the bottom of her pajama top and looked down at her with such adoration that Jemma could not contemplate just how much control it had taken him to mask it.

"Does that mean I'm forgiven?" She wanted to be tough and hold out a little longer, but she just couldn't. Not when he was giving her the puppy dog eyes and oh God, she was so screwed. She was in as deep as he was, but at least they'd both be figuring it out together.

"On one condition," she mumbled as he dragged her closer, the adoration mixing with lust as he started unbuttoning her top. She couldn't help but reach out and touch him, her hand going under the t-shirt he wore.

"Hmm," he acquiesced, gently biting down on the juncture where her neck meet her shoulder. Jemma momentarily forgot how to think and Ward took advantage, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. "Does it involve me keeping you warm?"

"Uh-huh," she moaned, as he kissed her, nipping at her lips and moved them back toward her bunk.

"Done," he growled, as she ground down on his erection just to make him feel as mindless as she did.

They eventually made it to her bed minus a few articles of clothing and he sat down, keeping her in his lap. He placed wet kisses on her chest and undid her bra, one trap falling down her arm. "Jemma," he breathed, grinning at her, "I still want that sandwich."


End file.
